


Make the Body Wait for It

by aniloquent



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, M/M, Misunderstandings, OT3, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Sam Wilson is a Gift, boys being horny and stupid, polyamorous sam wilson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 12:18:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13387647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aniloquent/pseuds/aniloquent
Summary: “Uh, hey,” Bucky starts, not daring to look at Steve. “I’m Bucky. The roommate.”He extends his hand, but Sam’s arms stay crossed. Steve’s silent.“I’m Sam.” he says instead, sizing Bucky up once. He feels like he’s on fire. “The booty call.”-Or, the one where Sam comes to stay with Steve and Bucky for two weeks in New York. Things happen.





	Make the Body Wait for It

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the little hiatus, I had to handle a bunch of senior year shit and get my life together, and I had like no room to write anything for MYSELF or the site for the rest of the semester. Ugh.
> 
> But here I am, accepted into my dream college, new laptop ready, writer's block overcome, and I'm ready to jump back into the fic ideas I have brewing in my head.
> 
> I decided to upload this monster (to me) in three parts, and I would honestly wait about two weeks for another update. The semester is starting up, but I have more free time now. Thanks for reading!

Bucky’s a good person. 

Generally.

He frowns to himself. 

Well, definitely more than thirty percent of the time. He knows  _ that _ for sure. 

Another moan and knock of wood against wall startled him out of his thoughts. The knocking builds up to a steady rhythm, and the moaning turns into full on wailing. He hears Steve let out a curse and start panting.

Bucky rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and sighs as he steps into the kitchen.

But sometimes.

 _Just_ sometimes.

Murder sounds good.

He jumps as Steve’s bed deals the poor wall a particularly nasty blow. Bucky hears an unfamiliar voice let out a loud curse followed by Steve’s name.

Yeah, murder sounds  _ really _ good when his best friend-slash-roommate-slash love of his life disrupts his morning routine by getting his brains fucked out by his third fling of the month. 

Bucky’s tried everything: ear plugs, leaving the apartment, even banging on the wall to get Steve to keep it down. Nothing seems to make him less annoyed that his roommate has taken to obnoxiously sleeping with half of Brooklyn. Bucky is all for freedom of sexual expression, of course - but one’s patience is undoubtedly tried when their efforts to tell their crush how they feel is dashed by said crush fucking literally anything with a pulse except the person in love with them.

The door to Steve’s room opens minutes after both parties seem to reach an obnoxious climax, and the lack of noise tells Bucky it’s the  unwanted guest emerging. Bucky rolls his eyes and starts preparing breakfast.

Bucky doesn’t bother tearing his attention away from the fridge to turn and get a good look at the sheepish person making their way to the front door. He doesn’t care at this point. They all look the same. “Have a good day! Leave us a review on Yelp!” He calls sarcastically, and snorts when he hears the door slam shut without a response. Eggs sound good this morning.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Steve purrs jokingly after coming out a few minutes later, swatting Bucky on the ass as he brushes into the kitchen. Bucky finds that gritting his teeth is easier than blushing.

“Morning, slut.” Steve snorts and leans against the counter in all his manly, blond, half-naked glory. Bucky huffs and avoids his stare. “You smell like sex.”

He catches Steve’s blinding grin out of the corner of his eye, and tries to keep his face straight as Steve barks out a loud laugh. “Thank you.”

“Make yourself useful and start the coffee, will you?” Bucky gripes with no real heat. Steve, like the huge fucking golden labrador he is, happily starts collecting cups.

They work around each other in comfortable (for Steve, at least) silence for most of breakfast until Steve speaks up again. “Do you remember me telling you about Sam? The counselor? Lives in D.C.?” Bucky grunts. It’s still too early for Steve’s sunny attitude and sex hair. “He’s coming to stay with us for a little bit. He wants a look around the city.” Bucky grunts again. “He’s from Harlem, says he hasn’t been there in years.”

“Is he cute?” Bucky muses lightly, poking at runny eggs. “Would you fuck him?”

Steve sputters, and Bucky hears the mugs knock together frantically. “Bucky- I- no- it’s,” he huffs out an offended sigh. “I haven’t even ever thought about it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. So that’s a yes.

“Listen, Steve,” Bucky starts as he prepares his breakfast to-go. He glances over at where Steve is preparing coffee. His heart pangs as he realizes Steve got out what he knows is Bucky’s favorite mug. That’s too bad. Bucky isn’t in the mood to talk this morning. He avoids Steve’s puppy dog pout as he exchanges the mug for his travel cup. “You know I don’t mind that you’re going through a promiscuous phase. I encourage it, even, considering how much of a prude you were in high school.” Steve snorts and nudges him playfully. “But you have to start being more considerate of  _ everyone _ involved in your exploits. Waking up to your screw of the week is getting a little old.”

Bucky feels Steve go still and doesn’t hear any sound. He knows his words cut, but dammit, he was hurt, too.

Steve grabs his arm, and Bucky makes eye contact with his roommate for the first time all morning. Steve’s eyes are shining and sad. “Buck-”

He collects his bag and moves towards the door before Steve can give him some self-deprecating speech and some bullshit apology. “I gotta go, Steve. I’ll miss the train.”

He’s out of the door before Steve can say anything else.

-

Steve checks his phone again. 6:00 p.m. He can’t help but grin.

Sam should be getting off of the train soon.

His fingers fly over his phone rapidly, sending his location, a dirty joke, and about five too many emojis before he pockets his phone again. Steve surveys the station again, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Hopefully, seeing his old friend would lift Steve’s mood. Bucky had been in a bad mood for the entire week, and it was contagious. They had been skirting around each other since Bucky’s little confession the other day, and Steve was itching for a reason not to be uncomfortable in his own home.

What Bucky had said was hurtful, but it was true. Steve  _ was _ trying to sleep with half the city. And be vocal about it. He didn’t know how else to get Bucky’s attention, especially when the man was sometimes unpredictable and closed off with his emotions. Meaningless sex wasn’t necessarily helping Steve straighten out his feelings for Bucky, but it was certainly giving him a medium for his frustration. It was hard being in love with your lifelong best friend-slash-roommate. Not only could Steve potentially ruin their friendship if he revealed his secret, but he would also have to find somewhere else to live. Steve shuddered at the idea.

Brooklyn prices were a nightmare.

Steve felt himself frowning and tried his best to correct it. Maybe he would have the courage to be frank with Bucky in the coming weeks. In the meantime, it wasn’t fair to Sam to spend his entire vacation brooding over Bucky

“Rogers!”

Steve is pulled out of his thoughts when he sees Sam Wilson striding towards him, handsome as ever.

Sam looks good. Like, really good. A heavy, stuffed duffel bag is slowing him down a little, and the skin under his eyes looks a little baggy from undoubtedly dozing off on the train, but there’s a dashing grin playing on his full lips and a bright look in his big, brown eyes. He finally gets close enough to Steve to capture him in a tight hug, and Steve gladly returns it. He bites his lip and closes his eyes at the feel of Sam’s hard, toned body pressing up against his own.

All thoughts of Bucky aside, Steve’s new life goal has become fucking Sam Wilson within an inch of his life.

“Look at you,” Sam says, that charming smile never leaving his face. “Nice to see you. All of you.” Steve raises his eyebrows.

“I’m glad to see you, too, Sam. It was starting to get a little boring being the only good looking person in New York.” Sam laughs, and Steve takes the opportunity to take Sam’s bag from him and lead him out of the station. 

“We’ll get in before Bucky does, so I can tell him to grab dinner.” He drags another appreciative glance down Sam’s body as the other man looks around the New York City bustle distractedly. “Are you in the mood for anything in particular?” _ Me, perhaps? _ Steve’s brain supplies slyly.

So, he used to be a fuckboy. Sue him. 

Sam wets his lips, and Steve’s grip on his luggage slips for a second. Sam shoots him a semi-concerned glance before waving his hand dismissively. 

“Don’t worry about it. I can cook.”

Steve shakes his head as they push through the doors and out into the sun. Sam’s skin is radiant. He needs his sketchbook. “You don’t have to do that, Wilson. You just got in. Let us take care of you.”

The last sentence comes out sultrier and more desperately than Steve meant. He bites down on his lip hard as Sam raises his eyebrows at him, an amused smile pulling at his lips. “Steve,” he starts, and wraps his arms around one of Steve’s biceps. Steve must be imagining the tiny, almost experimental squeeze he feels. “Really. I want to. When’s the last time you had a home cooked meal, anyway?” Steve rubs the back of his neck and looks away sheepishly. He and Bucky were willing to sacrifice authenticity if it meant they could get it in thirty minutes or less. “Exactly. You and Bucky can take care of me next time.”

Sam lowers his eyelids at him. Steve gulps.

“We would love to, Sam.” Steve’s voice is deep, and he watches Sam bite back a grin.

Sam’s grip tightens. Steve can’t hear anything going on around them.

“I’d like that.” Sam’s voice has dropped another octave, and Steve hopes the tightening in his pants isn’t visible.

“Yeah.” He says dumbly, and can’t look away from Sam.

Sam backs away finally, grinning boyishly, and takes another look at the chaos around them as if they weren’t eye-fucking five seconds ago.

“Yeah.” He bumps shoulders with Steve. “Now are you gonna show me which way your place is? Or do I have to play tourist by myself?”

Steve blinks at him. “Uh, go two blocks this way. We’re gonna be on 17th for a while.”

Sam gives him another gap-toothed smile before walking ahead, seemingly completely free of sexual tension. Steve can’t help but stare.

This is going to be a  _ long  _ two weeks.

-

“Are you sure Bucky won’t mind me staying here?” Sam asks again as Steve unlocks the front door to his and Bucky’s apartment. Steve rolls his eyes and shoulders his way into the foyer.

“For the last time, Sam,” he says, and glances at the cute frown on Sam’s lips. He wants to kiss him. “Bucky is gonna be completely fine with all of this. And if he’s not, I’ll make him be. He can’t say no to me.”

Steve snorts as he places Sam’s luggage behind the couch, but turns to find that Sam’s frown has deepened.

“Is that right?” Sam crosses his arms, tense. 

Steve matches his frown. “What?”

“Bucky can’t say no to you?”

Steve makes a panicked noise in the back of his throat. Where was all this coming from? Why was Sam so worried about what Bucky thought of any of this? It wasn’t like-

Oh.

“Me and Bucky,” Steve gestures wildly. Sam watches him without batting an eyelash. “We don’t have that kind of relationship. We’ve known each other forever, that’s about it.”

Sam watches him, and Steve wants to kick himself. That didn’t even sound convincing to him, how the hell was Sam supposed to buy any of it?

And that was just the thing. Steve couldn’t even lie to himself because he didn’t even know how he felt about Bucky. It was more than friendship, most definitely, but he had seen the type of people that Bucky’d dated. Natasha, for example, was smart, sexy, exotic, and everything Steve wasn’t. Bucky had known him too long to ever consider them being more than friends.

It was the main reason Steve had started sleeping around even more in the first place. When Bucky had split with Natasha, Steve hadn’t had the courage to take his chance, and it didn’t feel right. He wasn’t sure what he’d feared more: being a rebound for Bucky or being rejected for taking advantage of his broken heart.

Then eight months had passed, and Bucky hadn’t even bothered to see anyone.

_ “Nah,” he’d said around a mouth of pizza one night after Steve was three beers in and feeling brave enough to press Bucky about his love life. “I think I’m actually good. No one’s caught my eye.” _

_ Steve felt his stomach drop. He pushed his half-eaten slice of pizza around his plate, trying not to let his sour mood show. “Yeah? No one? Not even a little?” _

_ Bucky didn’t even shoot Steve a suspicious look about his sudden nosiness. “No, Steve. No one. Natasha was fantastic, and I’m completely over her, but I changed. I’m old now. I don’t know if I have the energy to do the quick and dirty stuff anymore. I just wanna find something serious and sit the fuck down somewhere.” _

_ Steve grunted. He could do all that and more. “Well, Nicholas Sparks,” he said, beaming as Bucky shot him the bird. “Maybe you do need a quick fuck. Just to get it out of your system.” _

_ Steve looked up to find Bucky staring at him, blue eyes unreadable. Nervously, he started chewing his lip. Was this it? Was this the moment in which Bucky confessed his love for Steve and vice versa? And then they had a long night of overdue, passionate, ravenous love-making? _

_ Steve hoped so. The way that Bucky was looking at him was telling him that this could be it. _

_ “Clint,” Bucky finally said. _

_ “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, too.” Steve froze when Bucky frowned. “I mean, what?” _

_ “Clint. My co-worker. He’s cute and pretty chill. We could probably bang more for sport than anything else.” Steve bit his tongue so hard he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. “Besides,  I like blonds.” _

_ “Yeah,” Steve grumbled. “Just not the right ones.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Nothing. Want the last slice?” _

“Steve? Did you hear me?” Sam’s voice sounds distant as Steve replays the humiliating memory in his head.

“What? No? Sorry,” he looks over at Sam sheepishly, who just rolls his eyes and smiles. 

“I said I believe you. There’s no need to get defensive. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

Steve waggles his eyebrows. “So I’ve been told.” Sam scowls playfully.

“Don’t push it, Rogers. It’s not too late to catch a train right back to D.C.”

Steve scoffs. “Like you would. And miss seeing this face? Preposterous.”

Sam looks him over for a minute before shrugging. “You might be onto something. Just maybe.”

Steve laughs again and feels himself relax. This is easy. Being with Sam and flirting with him is much easier than the complicated dance he’s been doing with Bucky for a while now. Maybe it was time for Steve to move on and find something that didn’t make him as upset as being hopelessly in love with his roommate was.

Sam sighs, and Steve looks at him to find the man looking at him with a concerned stare. “There’s that same angsty  _ Twin Peaks _ stare again. Come on, man. Let’s do something to get your mind off of whatever it is that’s bothering you. What did you want for dinner?”

Steve chews his lip as he watches Sam push past him and into the kitchen. “Dinner, right.”

\- 

“Okay, you can try it now.” 

“You sure? Or do I need to wait another ten minutes?”

“Fuck you, Rogers.”

“Maybe if you ask nicely, Wilson.”

Sam purses his lips and glances over at Steve again. They had been at this for the past hour as Sam prepared dinner. Steve had been constantly pestering hi, alternating between heavy flirting and trying to sneak a bite of the food before it was ready.

“Here, Steve.”

“Why don’t you feed me? It’s sexier that way.”

Sam rolls his eyes but obliges, holding the spoon out in front of Steve’s lips. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth, and Steve legitimately can’t help the groan that comes out of his mouth. It really is delicious.

When Steve opens his eyes, Sam is smiling at him. His cheeks are pushed up, his eyes are soft, and Steve can’t help but return a bashful grin.

“Hey,” Sam murmurs. His gaze flickers down to Steve’s mouth, and he tracks his tongue swiping out over his bottom lip.

“Hi.” Steve all but sighs. He feels like he can’t breathe.

Sam stares at him a bit longer before leaning forward. His chaste kiss is over as soon as it started, and Steve doesn’t even get a chance to get his hands on Sam’s hips.

Steve is frozen as he watches Sam step away and turn back to the stove. “Alright white boy,” Sam calls over his shoulder, not quite making eye contact with Steve. “Get out. I need to finish this before you distract me further. Go set the table or something.”

Steve stares at his back incredulously for a moment before he realizes he’s not getting another response. He nods dumbly, and adjusts himself as he stumbles out of the kitchen.

“Table. Yeah.”

-

Bucky comes home to the smell of chicken and vegetables.

Steve has specific instructions from the fire marshall not to cook, and Natasha would have told him she was coming over.

He narrows his eyes.

_ Sam _ .

“Steve,” he calls, dropping his bag and kicking his shoes off haphazardly, pointedly ignoring the other pairs Steve had obviously tidied earlier. “I’m home. I hope your booty call is decent, because I’m not in the mood to see some random guy’s balls again.”

Bucky grins at Steve’s horrified stare as he walks further into the apartment. He frowns as he takes in Steve’s nearly pained expression and the couch cushion he’s pressing down into his crotch. Bucky rolls his eyes. The guy hadn’t even been here for a full day yet, and Steve was already getting his dick wet. 

“Seriously? What are you, fifteen?”

Steve scowls. “Buck, will you quit? He made us dinner, and you’re being a dick.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows challengingly. “Oh, and that’s supposed to make up for him spending the next two weeks spraying cum all over the fucking apartment, Steve?”

Steve gapes at him for a second. Bucky’s quiet. He tends to get a little graphic when he’s upset. “What the fuck are you even talking about? We aren’t even  _ close _ to being like that. What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange these past few days.”

_ I’m attracted to you, and I need to ride you until I figure out whether I’m in love or lust with you. _ Bucky grinds his teeth. “I’ve been acting strange because you’ve been insisting on fucking every breathing thing that walks into this house.”

Steve is glaring at him when the most beautiful man he’s ever seen walks into the living room.

He’s sweaty from the kitchen, brown skin glistening as he crosses his arms. His brow is furrowed and his full lips are set in a pouty frown. 

Bucky wants to put his foot in his mouth.

“Uh, hey,” Bucky starts, not daring to look at Steve. “I’m Bucky. The roommate.”

He extends his hand, but Sam’s arms stay crossed. Steve’s silent.

“I’m Sam.” he says instead, sizing Bucky up once. He feels like he’s on fire. “The booty call.”

Steve barks out a laugh before slapping his hand over his mouth. Bucky’s cheeks are on  _ fire _ .

He winces. “Yeah, about that…” he sighs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about that. Steve and I have been having issues for the past few days, and I’m really frustrated. He’s been sticking his dick in everything lately,” Sam’s frown deepens. Steve makes a strangled noise. Bucky ignores him. “And I’m a little sick of it.” He smiles apologetically, genuine, and spreads his hands in surrender. “Start over?”

Sam blinks at him indifferently before glancing over at a sheepish Steve.

“Dinner’s ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ohhhh shit... it's heating up! Bucky, didn't anyone ever teach you to talk shit AFTER you make sure the area is crystal clear? 
> 
> Anyway, give me another two weeks to get the next chapter up and see what happens next! In the meantime, leave kudos, subscribe to this story, leave comments, and read my other shit. Ciao!


End file.
